


Veneror

by DinobotGlitch



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, enthusiastic morning sex, power bottom cyclonus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinobotGlitch/pseuds/DinobotGlitch
Summary: A little love and affection goes a long way.





	Veneror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarlightCaptivator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/gifts).



> I know it's late, but happy birthday, Meri! <3 <3 <3

Upon onlining, Cyclonus’s first realization was that there was hand on his thigh, Tailgate’s hand, tenderly tugging him to make him roll over. In the motion, there was a gentleness that Tailgate had to consciously focus on continuously in order to achieve, a gentleness that could soften even the hardest of mechs. Cyclonus had no problem moving though, laying out on his back and inviting the minibot between his legs with a warm flicker of his field.

“Hello,” he said with a sweet, sleepy smile that was meant exclusively for his smaller lover.

“Hi. Did I wake you?” delicate white hands were already dancing up his legs to his hips, his belly, his broad chest plate, while Tailgate sprawled over his supine form.

“No. You actually let me sleep in this time. I woke on my own.”

“Oh. That’s good. I’ve been up for hours now but I know how cranky you get if I wake you up to interface, so I was trying to be more considerate.”

“I appreciate that, little one. I take it that’s why you’re feeling me up now?”

As if there had been any other reason? Tailgate’s compact frame was already running hot, pressing instinctively against Cyclonus in a most suggestive manner. It was impossible to misinterpret.

“I had a dream,” Cyclonus smiles at the human term, finding it endearing when coming from Tailgate, “that you were sprawled out on the berth just like this with your legs spread and your panel open, showing off your soaking wet valve…”

“That wasn’t a dream - that was what happened last night,” Cyclonus replied with an amused lilt to his words. “Right before, as you may recall, you took me for a three hour ride on your spike, just to see if you could hold me up that long.”

“Yeah… It was like a dream,” Tailgate insisted. “You were so pretty last night, all aroused and aching for me to get you off. You’re always so pretty, Cyclonus…”

Tailgate was purring then, both in voice and in body as his little engine revved. He squeezed at the angles of Cyclonus’s chest plate and then held onto them for leverage to grind his hips against the purple mech’s codpiece, eliciting a breathy sigh from the warrior’s vocalizer as the vibrations traveled deep into his dormant valve and roused it. The friction and the vibrations quickly made Cyclonus moan lowly, but he kept his panel shut. Tailgate was going to have to work for it if he really wanted it this early!

“Awww,” the minibot whined when he saw his tactics were failing. “What do you want me to do? I promise I’ll let you spike me next!”

“You know that this isn’t about that,” Cyclonus chided playfully. He wrapped his legs around Tailgate’s waist and rolled them over swiftly so that he pin the minibot and rock his dark hips over the paler ones, retribution for the mech’s own actions. He made sure to do so as lewdly as possible, with his full range of motion, to achieve the desired effect: Tailgate squirming and groping at his hips in a plea for mercy that he didn’t deserve. 

“I know you like showing off your strength, but that isn’t why I interface with you,” he continued, as if they were just having polite conversation. “It’s also not the only way for us to interface. This time… I think this time, you should just lay back and let me do it my way.”

Sharp claws skittered over Tailgate’s codpiece then, which popped open eagerly to free a primed, bright blue and white spike into the relative cool of their hab suite. Cyclonus held it steady and rubbed his closed panel against it, smearing the bead of prefluid already budding on the tip and earning another soft hitch of Tailgate’s vents.

“O-oh. Okay! Yeah, I mean, I love when you do it. You’re so good at this, too!” the minibot blabbered. If he was discombobulated by the fact that things were so obviously not going according to his initial plans, he didn’t show it. He was too distracted by the sight of his spike wrapped up in Cyclonus’s clawed fingers!

Cyclonus opened his panel then, retracting heavy armor plates and baring his valve and spike sheath as a reward for the praise.

“You have to start me off though,” he told the minibot, who stilled midway through grabbing his own spike to help Cyclonus out. “Make me want your spike inside me, Tailgate. Make me _crave_ it.”

Tailgate, predictably, was eager to do that. Sure, it meant he didn’t get to interface with Cyclonus right away, but they both knew that was fine as long as he got to do something!

His hands fumbled over one another to reach down further and work up Cyclonus’s components, and Cyclonus couldn’t restrain a purr of pleasure at the enthusiasm. He was warm already; nowhere near as excited as Tailgate, but that could be fixed easily by the digits now rubbing gently around his exterior node and folds. With a few more careful touches, Cyclonus’s spike emerged into Tailgate’s waiting palm, but in doing so, offered another obstacle to overcome before they could continue to the main event.

The minibot offered his free hand to Cyclonus with a pleading look.

“Wet these?”

Cyclonus obliged him, bending low and taking the hand to lave gently at the fingers and palm until they were coated liberally in oral lubricant. Tailgate’s spike oozed another thick glob of prefluid onto his own belly plating as he watched and felt and lusted after every motion of Cyclonus’s glossa, which did not go unnoticed by either of them. While Cyclonus purred in approval, the lubricant covered hand grasped the head of his spike and began stroking it and Tailgate’s other fingers dipped into his mess and used that slickness to start massaging Cyclonus’s valve lips properly.

Cyclonus threw his helm back with a breathless sigh of gratitude, optics dimming in delight as his body processed nothing but pleasure. The slick glide and slight friction of a hand stroking his spike and small, gentle fingers rolling his node in loving counterpoint, plus Tailgate’s field wrapping him up with love and affection and hunger unlike any Cyclonus could remember being directed toward him before, would be quick to undo him if he let it. Tailgate revered him; he would kill to have Cyclonus for himself, tearing apart worlds just to fall at Cyclonus’s pedes in adoration. As if Cyclonus would give him the chance, rather than do it himself in order to keep Tailgate?

“You’re so pretty, Cyclonus,” Tailgate said again, his tone full of his appreciation for the purple mech as he began working one, two, three fingers into the rapidly lubricating valve. “So gorgeous. Please look at me, I want to see-”

Looking down, the warrior met his minibot’s gaze evenly with hooded optics, and preened when it made the other’s cooling fans kick on with the harsh grating sound of components thrown out of sync in their hurry to answer unconscious signals. 

“You’re the most beautiful mech in the world,” Tailgate whispered lovingly, and fluffed up when Cyclonus smiled down at him. He was becoming progressively more breathless as time went on, and there was a hard tap against the inside of Cyclonus’s thigh that he knew without looking was Tailgate’s neglected spike twitching in growing desperation. The minibot’s touch never faltered though; he stroked Cyclonus’s spike confidently while holding him steady with three fingers plunged deep into his wet valve, and Cyclonus loved every second of it. There was no way to miss his enjoyment as he gyrated on the fingers, seeking more of the sensations, for several minutes while Tailgate tirelessly worked him over.

And still, or perhaps because of that, the minibot pled.

“Please, please, Cyclonus, I want you so badly. I want you to ride my spike and take your pleasure from it as you see fit, please, I can’t stand it when you look so fragging perfect!”

“What makes you think you deserve to spike me?” Cyclonus asked finally, his tone deceptively level and firm as he started grinding his hips down more aggressively on the fingers that had given up on simply filling him to instead begin fragging him roughly in a last ditch effort to break his resolve. The power behind them might have been enough to deter one of Tailgate’s size, but for Cyclonus, it was just the right amount of force to really rock his core.

To Tailgate’s credit, he didn’t flinch or hesitate as he answered, “The same thing that makes you think you deserve to ride my spike. I love you so much, so much! I want to be with you like this, to hold you and please you- please!”

“Please what, Tailgate? You must be specific if you want me to do something.”

“Please, Cyclonus!” Tailgate begged, a tinge of true desperation bleeding into his words as his hips pushed up to grind against Cyclonus’s aft, pinning his hand between them. “I waited as long as I could but you’re so hot and wet, and I need you right now!”

Cyclonus growled, allowing his own appreciation for his lover, the mech who would be his conjunx, to enter his field. Words were moot, then; Tailgate’s fingers left his valve in the same instant that he reached back and wrapped his fingers around the base of the minibot’s spike, guiding the tip to his entrance and then sinking down onto it in a single fluid motion that had them both reeling for a long moment.

The spike was small, not stretching him like his own fingers would have done and definitely not hitting anywhere near his ceiling node even at its deepest reach, but Cyclonus wouldn’t have had it any other way. It reached deep enough to thoroughly abuse some of his most condensed sensor clusters, and he knew how much Tailgate enjoyed being able to give him this; that was all Cyclonus could ever want.

“Oh, Primus, Cyclonus,” Tailgate blabbered just as he always did when he was all wrapped up in the heat of the larger mech. Both of his hands were now on the stiff purple and gray spike jutting from Cyclonus’s sheath, kneading it restlessly and smearing lubricant and prefluid both as he rambled. “Cyc’, ohfragyes, your valve is so good, I wanna frag you so good-!”

“Not this time,” Cyclonus refuted as he leaned forward to brace himself above the blue and white form, rocking slightly into the grip to make Tailgate stroke him properly. “You’re all mine this time, so don’t you even dare try to take over.”

That cut off the stream of pleas instantly. Tailgate easily could do whatever he wanted, including holding down and fragging Cyclonus into a whimpering, drooling mess, if he set his mind to it, but he wouldn’t dream of it right then and they both knew it. He loved Cyclonus and he wanted nothing more than to share pleasure with him - but only what they mutually agreed upon. Forcing Cyclonus to change script on a whim would only end in frustration and sexual dissatisfaction for them both, so why bother?

Cyclonus squeezed down in a slow, rippling wave of calipers, massaging the stout spike languidly from base to tip and back again. “Are you going to be good for me, Tailgate?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, absolutely!” Tailgate agreed. His hands were shaking a little but his hips remaining dutifully still as Cyclonus started slowly rolling his hips back and forth, grinding his valve over the spike nestled inside him. Tailgate’s visor flickered in response to pleasure, an old coding glitch that no one had seen fit to update after Tailgate’s rediscovery, and it was honestly the cutest thing.

Tailgate’s exvents were quick to slip out of rhythm as he watched the purple mech move sensuously over him though, which made Cyclonus second-guess his previous thought. Tailgate flustered and in love was really cute, too. There was nothing that Tailgate loved more than watching Cyclonus, after all…

He was quickly distracted by his own body, leaving the debate unfinished in favor of focusing on the heat coiling tight in his belly. Tailgate had prepped him well, made his valve ache for the pleasure of a spike inside it just like he asked, and it showed; he was soaked, each movement of his undulating hips punctuated by the wet squelch of slick, puffy valve mesh meeting tender spike sheath in an intimate kiss. Recessed sensor clusters were caught on the ridges of the minibot’s length and tugged exquisitely, serving as a perfect counterpoint to the pressure of two hands gripping and rubbing shamelessly at his member, and Cyclonus reveled in the sensation that was still so novel to them both.

When he sat back after a couple of minutes, hands braced on his thighs and back arched just slightly as he began bouncing on the minibot’s lap in earnest, the once-quelled litany of praise began anew, driving him higher still.

“Cyclonus- frag, you’re so beautiful, s-so- ohPrimussoprettyoh _gods_!” Tailgate gasped - it was like a dam had been broken, and words once bottled up tumbled out at a speed to almost rival the likes of Swerve or Bluestreak. “An’ you feel amazing, your valve is so wet and hot and good, you’re going to _kill_ me with how good it is, I can’t wait to overload inside you, please let me, please, please, please-!”

Cyclonus shuddered as he abruptly ground down hard on Tailgate’s hips, gyrating sharply over the spike and housing until his sensors discharged energy throughout his systems and Tailgate’s both, silencing the minibot for another blessed moment as the cresting of his pleasure tore a lusty moan from both their vocalizers. It wasn’t a complete overload, only electric discharge, so it didn’t slow either of them down long, but the delicious tingle in his fingers was exhilarating.

Tailgate was fast to recover, squeezing his spike and arching up into him to get just a little deeper, offer just a little more resistance. Cyclonus rumbled in approval as he resumed his pace with only a quiver of his vents to show how worked up he really was, and was gratified to see that Tailgate was no better off.

His vents were labored, his visor nearly offline. The pulse of his EM field was overburdened with too many feelings, all of which Cyclonus drank in with happy abandon. Greedy fingers continued to play with his spike, massaging the head and fondling the shaft in short bursts, and Cyclonus nearly came undone.

“Tailgate, I’m alm- almost there, just a little more…”

“Please,” the minibot whimpered brokenly, spike throbbing hard inside of Cyclonus’s valve. The rest of him was taut, coiled tightly like a spring near its breaking point, but he was behaving so well, and that really deserved the reward of overload. “You feel so good, Cyclonus… I want you to overload, wanna feel you go over the edge!”

Cyclonus would have commended him on holding still for so long if he still had the processor power to do so. However, as things stood, his thighs had begun trembling faintly, the built up charge in his array making it hard to control his movements as he bent to balance himself with a hand on Tailgate’s chest and rode Tailgate hard, and his processor power was shunted to the wayside to make room for his more primal needs. He was nearly there; he just needed Tailgate to hold on a little longer!

In the end, it was Tailgate’s overload - impossible to deny and just as powerful as the rest of him - filling his valve with cool transfluid and another discharge of static buildup that threw Cyclonus headlong into his own release with a sob. He never stopped moving, rocking, grinding into the hands that milked him and on the spike that swelled inside him as wave after exquisite wave of pleasure stole the very air from his taxed cooling fans.

It was all he could do to keep it together as the sensations overwhelmed him and left him a shaking, gasping mess astride his lover, but luckily, Tailgate had him covered there as well.

“It’s okay,” he crooned, the words still laced with static but sparkfelt, hands smoothing over Cyclonus’s spent spike and up his torso. “You did so good… You worked really hard for that one, but it- it was worth it, right? Just cycle- in, out, in and out…”

Cyclonus moaned softly and bent further over Tailgate so that he could lift his hip with minimal effort to let the minibot’s spike slip out of him, then settled over the equally overheated minibot’s frame to let his cooling fans do their job in peace. It wouldn’t last long since six million years in stasis had done terrible things to Tailgate’s libido (namely, throwing it into overdrive to make up for lost time), but he could enjoy the in-between care that Tailgate was always happy to provide in the meantime!

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, feel free to hit me up on my tumblr (dinobotglitch) if you wanna know more about my works and see what's in store for the future! I've got a bit of an event going on over there right now that could earn you a ficlet of your choosing if you help me out, so make sure to peep it. :D


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